


The Prince and His Knight

by CruelisnotMason



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ballroom Dancing, Bokoblins - Freeform, Don't copy to another site, Fantasy, Fluff, Knight Keith (Voltron), M/M, Pining, Princes & Princesses, Romance, Royalty, Sheith as Zelink, Strangers to Friends, Tragic Romance, Trans Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 01:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18790564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CruelisnotMason/pseuds/CruelisnotMason
Summary: “What happened to him?” Shiro hears Keith ask, voice shaky. The physician doesn’t look at Keith; Shiro wants to say something, quickly, before she tells him.“It’s a disease of his muscles and nerves,” she says, and Shiro feels his heart leap out of his chest, “It’s said he will not live past his twenty-fifth birthday.”What she doesn’t say is that Shiro has to awaken his powers before he dies – has to slay the demon in the form of one man – Zarkondorf.





	The Prince and His Knight

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [@Kika988](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kika988/pseuds/Kika988) for beta-ing this fic! It helped me a lot & your advice was spot on and I couldn't been happier!  
> Also a big thank you at [@saucerfulofsins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucerfulofsins/works) for brainstorming with me and sharing hilarious ideas with me for this fic!
> 
> The whole thing started when I did some sheith x botw art and thought that I'd like to bring the idea behind it to life. It's not high quality or anything, but here:  
> [Shiro & Keith - Bokoblin Shenanigans](https://twitter.com/CruelisB/status/1067904366445768705)  
> [Keith as a Link](https://twitter.com/CruelisB/status/1065614103773962240)  
> [ The ball](https://twitter.com/CruelisB/status/1084897529148383232?s=19)  
> [Warming up to each other](https://twitter.com/CruelisB/status/1071360249246953472?s=19)  
> 

“Prince, this is your assigned guard. He is to protect your life from now on.”

Shiro looks down at the small back of a boy that’s nowhere taller than him – the blue tunic almost looks too big on him, and the black, windswept hair hides his features as he bows down.

If Shiro did not know it’s less to protect than to supervise him, make sure he stays away from the things he likes and turns more towards the things _they_ would like him to do, he’d probably welcome a companion. The castle is lonely, sometimes.

He folds his arms, glaring aggressively. They will see if that stupid guard of his will be able to follow him.

 

*

 

 

Shiro is running over the wide green field, cursing the clothes of the royal family. He can’t jog in the white dress pants that are made to walk and pray, can’t live freely in the wild like he’s supposed to. He reaches one of the lush oak trees outside the palace grounds, and leans against it, panting hard with an open mouth. The sun shines high over him. It’s a clear day, and for once even the Gerudo Highlands are clearly visible.

Shiro looks at them and wishes nothing more than to be there, far away from the palace and the responsibilities that come with it. He sinks down to the exposed roots and closes his eyes – if there are hidden powers inside of him, maybe they can bring him to another place, only if he wishes hard enough for it.

He opens his eyes to the sound of light steps approaching and a shadow casting over him. Shiro gives an annoyed groan and looks up. It’s his guard.

“I wasn’t about to run away,” he tells him and hopes that his attitude is bad enough for Keith to leave him alone. Keith only looks at him, not saying a thing. Shiro bites his lip; it’s not fair for him to be mean to Keith, who can’t help this situation either. But he’s here on his own terms, working for the king. It’s an honor, and at the end of the day, Keith can slip out of the role of a guard and be just another human, without responsibility.

Something in Shiro’s back of his mind scolds him for thinking like this, but he pushes the thought away.

“Aren’t you tired of following me around?” he asks, but his temper still hasn’t cooled down, and it comes out snarkier than he planned to. Keith stays mute, and sometimes Shiro wonders if he can say anything at all, or if he’s just born this way.

You don’t have to have good ears to hear the town’s people whisper their rumors.

_The new guard is a changeling._

_A cursed child._

_He’s short, even for a Hylian._

_The king trusts him?_

_Can’t he talk?_

_His hair is as black as a crow’s feather. He made a pact with the devil._

_A wicked young boy._

Keith just stands there, looks nothing like what the town’s people dare to speak of. He’s a young boy, just like Shiro, with black hair and beautiful face.

Sometimes Shiro can’t bear to look at him, an unknown fear curling in his stomach.

“Don’t you ever speak?” he asks him. Keith only looks at him, one hand on his sword.

“Not even when the _King_ demands?” No answer.

“Or his prince?”

Shiro is getting tired of this. He always wished for a sibling, a pet, or even a child of the chambermaids to play with. And then he gets Keith. Shiro, once again, loses his temper.

“What a vapid and spiritless existence you must lead,” he says coolly. His heart aches. His mother wouldn’t have approved of this behavior, behaving as rotten as he does.

His heart jumps again; it isn’t right.

“I want to go there,” he says, pointing to the Gerudo Highlands. “I want to be free!”

Keith shifts, only a bit; he didn’t look angered before, and he doesn’t now.

“Go where? The snowy highlands where you will freeze to death before you starve like the useless prince that you are? Be free? Free from what, the wealth, security, and family you have?”

Shiro slowly turns his head to him, hearing his voice for the first time. He glares at him for half a minute, heart rate picking up dangerously before his muscles start pulsing. The spoiled prince opens his mouth to spill angry words at the faithful guard, but neither of them can foresee Shiro collapsing right on the spot.

The last thing Shiro sees is the distressed look on the guard’s face, reaching for Shiro before he hits the ground, hard.

 

When Shiro wakes, the first thing he sees is Keith.

He looks utterly relieved at the sight of Shiro opening his eyes and calls for the physician.

“Back, back into the cushion,” shouts the physician, as she sees Shiro trying to sit up, before proceeding to push him down herself. She’s a woman in her forties, bulky and beautiful, and stronger than the prince.

“What happened to him?” Shiro hears Keith ask, voice shaky. The physician doesn’t look at Keith; Shiro wants to say something, quickly, before she tells him.

“It’s a disease of his muscles and nerves,” she says, and Shiro feels his heart leap out of his chest, “It’s said he will not live past his twenty-fifth birthday.”

What she doesn’t say is that Shiro has to awaken his powers before he dies – has to slay the demon in the form of one man – Zarkondorf.

It’s a truth he’s painfully aware of, something that can’t be ignored no matter how much he wants to fool around. Shiro wants to save Hyrule, wants all the people that live there to have a good life in the future, too. But sometimes, right in the moment, all Shiro wants to do is live for himself.

“Prince,” the guard says, worry lacing his tone, “how are you feeling?”

Shiro opens his mouth, but he’s too weak to answer. He closes it again, turning his brown hazelnut eyes on the dark-haired boy next to him.

“Let him rest,” the physician urges and slaps Keith slightly on the head. “He won’t get better if you pester him with questions.”

Keith snaps his mouth shut and doesn’t say anything while Shiro’s eyes close, and he slumps back into a painful sleep.

 

*

 

“You’re sick,” his guard says a few days later, when Shiro is outside on the green grass again. Shiro is too proud to let him see that he didn’t hear him coming and doesn’t turn around to see his face. He’s still embarrassed over collapsing before and embarrassed about what he said to Keith beforehand. It wasn’t fair to Keith, he realizes. If mother was alive, she would have scolded him.

“You’re speaking,” he says simply as he tries to catch the slimy frogs as they try to escape back into the water. Before Keith can answer, Shiro grabs one and holds it to his face.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” he tells him, “for saying the things I said.”

Keith doesn’t answer, but stands next to him and stares at the frog in his hands.

“I must be truly an evil spirit,” he tells the frog more than he tells Keith, and he means it.

Keith sits beside him, his face pained. “No, prince. I’m sorry for causing your illness to get the better of you. It was my fault, and if you, sire, had told the king, he would have had my head for it.” He talks, he bows; all things that are unusual for him.

“Being so subservient is not a good look on you, my guard,” Shiro laughs, reaching out to pat Keith’s shoulder. “Really, I’m at fault. And if I had stayed that angry about you spilling nothing but the truth, I would have been a truly ill-mannered prince.” His eyes cast down “Keith. You’re not at fault.”

His personal guard looks up at him, ready to thank him again, but the frivolous prince only holds the frog to Keith’s face.

“There’s a tale that if you kiss a frog it will turn into a prince!”

Keith’s face scrunches in disgust; the frog is too close to his face.

“Why would I want that?” he complains, face drawn in disdain. Shiro holds his breath, then lowers the frog.

“Right,” he says, looking at the small creature in his hands. “Why would you want that?”

Shiro doesn’t mean for him to see and thinks it’s in a second where he’s not observed by the guard when he grabs another frog for a good measure and gives it a kiss. Unsurprisingly, nothing happens.

 

Shiro accepts Keith’s presence as a constant shadow behind him – he can’t see why anyone would see him as a cursed child when they must have known him for years by now, as he has been just another Hylian teenage boy when they meet for the first time. He doesn’t talk a lot, but he does talk to Shiro. Instead of an annoying guard he becomes a companion, or at least Shiro sees him as one, loves to stroll around and have him follow him. The thought of his father assigning him as a way to control him is long forgotten as Keith just does as he’s told, lets Shiro do as he wants, and only protects as he follows him.

Shiro has never felt _free_ before. Since the king assigned him his guard, he feels he’s coming closer to that goal, being able to move around within the castle’s and his father’s reach. He has more freedom now, that he’s protected.

“There’s this legend,” he tells Keith once, or twice, or a thousand times as he starts a story he has heard or read, “that there’s a small heart shaped lake in the south-east from here. I want to go there.” When Shiro and Keith spread out to search for it, they quickly come back from their fruitless search, having wandered around in the mountains until their proviant has been either used up or become spoiled and their horses lost their temper.

They manage to reach a mountain to the south-west when they go on another journey a few months later.

“The legend says,” Shiro reads from a book as his horse keeps on trotting, “that there is a majestic, spirit on Satori Mountain, called the <<Lord of the Mountain>> who’s known to have lured people to the mountain with his beauty.”

“You want to find him?” Keith asks him.

Shiro slams his book shut with one hand. “I will.”

In the night they sit in the well of Satori Mountain, with the Lord of the Mountain having not surfaced yet. But the night is magical and cherry blossoms scatter everywhere. Shiro suddenly forgets everything about the legend and only stares at the pink cherry blossom petals scattered in Keith’s dark hair and the moonlight reflecting in his dark eyes as he silently looks up to the sky.

“Are you mad that we did not find it?” Keith asks the prince the next day when they travel back to the castle. Shiro shakes his head – he did not find the Lord of the Mountain, but instead found something even more beautiful.

 

When Shiro’s father, the king, hears about their adventures because a servant who Shiro talked to, spilled his secrets, he makes a great deal of burning some of the books in his library. Shiro becomes sick again at the same day and has to lie in bed for a few weeks this time.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

Many years have come by, and it’s another hot summer day. They are squatting beneath a little hill in the high green grass, cicada’s cries loud enough to muffle their voices. Not far away from them, are the _bokoblins_ that Shiro wanted to go observe, the monster’s grunts are loud and disgusting, but Shiro squeals in excitement.

Keith doesn’t understand what Shiro likes about these wicked creatures. They can stand and move not unlike humans, have big flappy ears and pig’s noses, have either red, blue, black or white fur, and if Keith learned one thing, then it’s that if you spot a white one, you need to run. Their big eyes are wet and glimmering in the sun and even from afar Keith thinks that they look disgusting.

“ _They are so cute_ ,” Shiro sighs while he’s rummaging in his worn pouch, unbecoming for a prince, “I cannot believe they mean harm.”

“Prince,” Keith says, slowly, “there have been reports of _them_ eating humans.” It’s a half-hearted try. The guard knows better by now, having visited the prince’s chambers on a daily basis. He’s seen that this boy is a truly rotten one, one that laughs and grins and runs and cuddles a _bokoblin_ toy plush into his sleep.

Keith isn’t sure, but he assumes he gives it kisses, too.

“The spirit of nature is not to be told,” he tells Keith. “It’s to be tested.”

A mere guard without a drop of royal blood can hardly disagree with highest royalty, not verbally at least. Keith is such a guard, and in the beginning, he was only a witness to the prince’s words; only to hear and not to react. However, Keith has ceased being a mere listener, for the prince wants to know what he truly thinks and speaks of him as a friend.

“It’s a bad idea.”

The exception proves the rule, as Shiro doesn’t listen to him when he has set his mind on something. He turns his lit-up face to Keith, not moved a bit by Keith’s objection.

“With God as my witness”, he says, not a hint of seriousness in his voice as he holds his palm against his chest, “we will espy the wild, taste the wild, and tame the wild!”

“My prince,” Keith sighs, “Sire, you’ve fully lost it.”

“I said what I said, Keith. Today I will _pet_ a bokoblin.”

They share a look – it’s intense and Keith wants to squirm under the look of those wild hazelnut eyes, wide with excitement. Keith’s body and mind are unable to respond to anything he said, too entranced by this _weird-ass_ prince.

Shiro takes a _bokoblin helmet_ out of his pouch and pulls it over his face. Keith opens his mouth, but Shiro gets up quickly and slowly walks toward his favorite animals. He looks hilarious, moving closer to the bokoblins, looking like a human with a badly sewn headwear, looking nothing like them. If it wasn’t so dangerous, Keith would find it hilarious.

There’s no way to stop Shiro, so Keith just readies his mother’s sword.

 

Shiro has the heart and mind of a crazy person, but he’s smart enough to approach slowly; he holds his hand out for a good measure and bends his knees a bit while walking. The ears of the bokoblin helmet on his head bob as he walks, and the animals have not noticed him yet.

The monsters snarl and dance, and the prince might be right; they do look cute somehow. From afar, at least.

They are currently dancing around a fire despite it being the middle of the day – Keith wonders how they evolved to learn that much, learn to make a fire, when other animals can’t. Then again, they are said to be monsters, not animals.

Shiro is still walking towards them, with Keith closely following behind him.

“They are _so_ cute,” he repeats in a whisper, “but _what_ are they doing?”

“I really think we shouldn’t go closer…”

“But we’re so close already, Keith!” he whispers excitedly.

One of the monsters turns his head. It’s a red one, young and energetic. At the sight of Shiro he snarls. A blue one behind him is growling deeply as if answering.

Oh no, Keith thinks.

“Prince,” he says to Shiro, who’s frozen in place, “Prince, I think they are coming for us.”

Keith often has to charge after him when Shiro wants to _just get away from it all_ , when he just runs up the hill without looking back.

The bokoblin is quicker.

Heavy stacks of meat next to the fire are long forgotten when they come for Shiro, who finally realizes the danger and starts running, Keith right behind him.

“Oh no!” he shouts as he runs. Keith bites his tongue to not let a ‘told you so’ slip out.

 

 

 

*

 

 

Shiro’s power has not yet awakened, and the king is unsatisfied. This has been going on for years now, but as he grows older, these matters become more urgent.

After another series of unsuccessful attempts, the prince is ordered to spend the next two months either in his chamber or in the springs of the Hylian Goddess, sometimes for so long that he catches a terrible cold the same day. He stays until the moon rises and the sun comes for it again, so long that everything becomes a blur and he imagines the goddess whispering and laughing at him. Keith doesn’t see him once, king’s orders, spends his time outside the castle, trying to not think of him every day, waiting for until he has to work for the king or the prince again.

 

 

*

 

 

The two months end with a ball.

The prince is unhappy, wearing a grim expression on his face as he gets introduced to Hylian girls from every province.

His first smile appears when he sees Keith across the room, and he immediately walks toward him. Keith hasn’t seen him in a long time, but he has grown, and although he spends every waking minute praying in dark wells to unleash the true power hidden inside of him that has the power to save Hyrule, his muscles have gotten thicker. Keith can’t believe his eyes – it has been too long since he last saw Shiro, for today being the first day his presence was requested again.

He doesn’t know why, but he feels a blush creeping up his cheeks. He bows, as is required for a guard in front of his prince.

“My prince, sire, I hope you are well,” he grits out, not because he’s angry but because he’s afraid of saying something that he shouldn’t say in front of other royalty who don’t take relationships between peasants and the prince as easy as the prince does.

“It’s Shiro,” he simply replies and drops an awful curtsy, one that makes Keith cringe and snort, just because he _knows_ the prince is mocking it.

“May I request this dance?” Shiro asks him, and the laugh that wants to escape Keith’s lips gets stuck. His eyes shift toward the throne where the king normally sits, though for now he is nowhere to be seen.

“I-“, he stutters, eyes snapping back to him, face red. “My prince, I _can’t_.”

“You can,” says Shiro, “if your prince requests it of you, and if you aren’t opposed to it.”

Shiro’s smile is sly; he knows what he wants. Keith is afraid the king will have his head, but he can’t bring himself to care, not when Shiro’s brown eyes are melting on him, not when his smile is enchanting him far more thoroughly than any witch’s spell.

The prince comes closer, a hand on Keith’s shoulder already – he got taller, too. Too tall, Keith thinks, feverish. “My prin-“

“Keith,” he says again, “may I have this dance?”

“The king-“

“Isn’t here tonight.” Shiro smiles and leans closer. “I wouldn’t put you in jeopardy.”

Keith still hesitates – he’s a guard, a brave one, or so he’s been told numerous times, but as good as he fights, he is bad with people. That, too, he has been told.

Shiro still stands and holds his hand out, waiting; he doesn’t care about the murmuring in the background, doesn’t care how long Keith needs to think until he decides.

Slowly, he raises his hand and reaches out. The folds of the royal garment for guards stretch over his hand; made to be looked at, not fighting.

“You may have this one dance,” he declares, and it’s the bravest he’s ever done. Shiro grabs for his hand, ecstatic, pulls him into his arms. The music starts.

“I can’t-”, Keith wants to warn him, but the violins are louder and Shiro is already moving, one hand on Keith’s hip and one in his hand. They are not the only ones dancing; the ballroom is packed with people and they are moving among five or six other pairs, all of them wearing the brightest clothes, vibrant in color. If someone wasn’t able to detect their status from their appearance, the rich embroidery that excessively spreads over the gowns is a big enough hint.

“Prince”, he gasps, feeling weak in his strong arms.

“Shiro,” his prince reinforces with tight lips, brilliant hair sparkling like a thousand diamonds in the moon and candlelight, reflecting in the glittering room. “Please.”

“Shiro,” Keith breathes as they are dancing, or rather, as Shiro is dancing and Keith is stumbling along.

“Won’t the people talk?”

“Let them talk.” Shiro grins. “Let them envy me.”

“Envy you?” he asks, disgruntled. “I fear my prince isn’t right in the head.”

“And yet you’re dancing with me.”

There’s no come-back to that, and Keith complies, is a partner in this crime, enjoys the evening being swirled around until his hair and head is messy and he starts thinking about the prince’s lips on him, like the fool he is.

Shiro drags him along as he talks to everyone, says it’s important for his guard to be next to him all the time, in case anyone planned an attack or something. Keith knows he’s being played with but tags along quietly, accepting the food Shiro gives him and eating with downcast eyes when Shiro is entangled in conversation.

But he never leaves Keith, and introduces him by name, not as his guard, saying he’s his friend. Eyebrows shoot up everywhere, as if there is an obvious lie in it, obvious to everyone who has eyes and saw them dancing. Keith is embarrassed and hides behind his pile of food.

Another dance is starting when they sit down at a table.

“I should go back to working,” Keith says and stands. “Thanks for everything.” He hesitates. “Shiro.”

Shiro observes him, eyes wild and untamed.

“You _are_ working. You’re my guard,” he explains in his cheeky, all-knowing voice. But then he leans in and Keith thinks it’s a mistake, he shouldn’t come closer to him. Warm breath puffs over his cheek, when Shiro is close to his ear _again_.

“You don’t need to stay,” he whispers. “If you don’t want to, you’re free to go. It’s an offer – not an order.” When he pulls back, the sparkle has left his eyes.

“No,” Keith says loud, then whispers back reverently, “I do not wish to leave. I just feared that it won’t be good for me to stay here and enjoy myself when I am assigned to work.”

“The king pays his guards little enough. Stay,” Shiro replies and his eyes glint, “or let’s leave together?”

“Yes,” Keith says. “I’d love to.”

 

They get away undetected and leave the castle – it’s a long way by foot, but they take it, walking half the night outside to reach an old barn not far from the forecourt where loyalists receive knight hood.

“It belongs to the king,” Shiro explains as he opens the old wooden door while holding up a lamp, “as everything does.”

“Not everything,” Keith says and enters. Shiro laughs.

Shiro looks around for a moment, but there’s nothing inside, not even animals. He gets seated on a pile of hay, sinks in deep without reaching the cold, hard ground. Keith stands next to the door, watching him.

“Growing up I always thought barns would be romantic.” Shiro throws around some strands of hay. “Turns out, they are just dirty.”

Keith snickers and comes closer.

“You never learned to dance, right?” he asks Keith, “Even though it was a plain farmer’s dance, overtaken by the bourgeoisie. I thought every Hylian child knows it,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

Keith looks down at him, the foolish prince that he must protect with all his strength – orders or not. He sighs and puts part of his gear down, and lays down the weaponry, too.

“I’ve learned dancing,” he declares in a quiet voice. Shiro perks up, eyes wide and mouth open. Keith knows what he’ll ask of him, so he’s willing to give, before the prince even asks. Yes, he’s that whipped.

It’s been a long time, but it’s anchored in his DNA, engraved in a script from his ancestors. One foot before him, one behind him. He slowly raises his arms to lightly clap once over his head, then moves them in front of his face. One arm extended, pointing at Shiro, he pulls it back, raises a finger to his lips, then makes a slow sizzling sound.

Easy – one leg extends, stretches in front of him, so his toe tips to the ground, then the same when he balances it back; then a jump, a change of legs, and the same again.

Easy, if done with the bare minimum, without the snake-like movements throughout the dance, done without the hip and mouth and head movement. Done unlike Keith.

Shiro gasps when Keith springs to his hands and flicks back to his feet. He then stretches out his hands and bows his head, like after an artist that waits for a round of applause.

Shiro claps his hands passionately. “How- _why?_ ”

Keith doesn’t answer at first, instead flops down next to him into the hay, but Shiro isn’t dumb, even if he sometimes appears overly excited.

“Are you not Hylian?” he asks Keith, surprised with what he came up with. “The dance, it looks _so foreign_ , nothing like the dances I watched on the king’s grounds, nothing like the dances I saw in the villages.”

Keith closes his eyes, breathing harshly through his nose. He’s unsure – Shiro’s the prince, and even though he says he’s his friend, that doesn’t necessarily mean he can trust him.

Keith inhales and holds his breath for a moment.

“My dad was a traveler,” he starts. Shiro’s eyes are on him, not filled with the usual childish excitement but with careful curiosity. “He wasn’t a knight, not like everyone assumed he would be. He was capable with forging the sword, but what he liked _most_ ,” he stops short, takes a breath, “was the _loneliness_ that came with traveling.”

The hay warms him as he tells the story – he opens his eyes again. The stars shine through a little window right beside them, a guiding light in the dark.

“I-” his voice stutters, and he has to take another breath, steady himself, “I never knew him, _my dad_. But I know of his stories – my mother told me without end.”

“Keith,” Shiro says and shuffles closer and takes his hand. “You don’t have to tell me, if it’s too hard.”

“It’s not,” Keith says and can’t fathom how he hadn’t put his trust into this wonderful soul, the white-haired prince, before.

“My mother was from a tribe up in the mountains in Kakariko village.”

“The Sheikah.”

“Yes. Did you know there was turmoil among the tribe? They were close to killing each other off.”

“I didn’t know,” Shiro whispers.

“My mother took one side, and I grew up with them.”

Shiro doesn’t say it out loud, but the look on his face is clear as day, even in the darkness of the barn. Keith sees the moment it dawns him.

“You’re a _Yiga._ ” Keith simply nods.

Shiro looks alarmed and conflicted, unsure if he should run or stay.

“Keith, say now, will you harm me?”

“I won’t,” Keith quickly assures him. “I won’t, my prince.”

A crow caws outside the barn. Far away at the castle, the music still plays, and it quietly reaches the barn.

“Keith,” Shiro says and takes his hand. “You’re my friend. I trust you with my life.”

“Me, too.”

Shiro continues holding his hand as Keith tells him about his mother, Krolia. She understood that she followed the wrong people and fled with him afterwards, so Keith grew up in Gerudo Town.

“I thought only women can live in Gerudo Town,” Shiro says, and there’s a spark back in his eyes, his natural curiosity to learn and understand that drives him.

“And my mother brought me there,” Keith says, “because after I was born and still unable to comprehend the divide they make between men and women, she thought we both could live in that town together _forever_ , safe from the Yiga. That’s why she fled there.”

It takes some time, but he knows Shiro grasped the meaning behind his words, when Shiro’s eyes widen and his mouth opens.

“ _I didn’t know_ ,” he says, surprised.

“ _Nobody does_ , unless I want them to know.” They exchange a glance.

“Did they throw you out?”, he asks in a quiet voice, “after you realized?”

“No.” Keith picks at a strand of hay, “When I realized, I left by myself. They gave me the choice.”

And that’s that. Keith tells him about the strange animals in Gerudo Town, and how there are no horses in the desert. He only has a handful of stories about his life with the Yiga clan, but most of his memories are wiped away. When he falls asleep in Shiro’s arm, the morning sun is already rising. Shiro doesn’t mind, only in awe about the life that Keith has led, about the person he is and about the troubles he had in life up until now.

Shiro looks down at Keith’s smaller frame and wishes that his life could always be like this.

 

Shiro wakes up late at noon, body aching from the uncomfortable sleep. The sun shines harshly through the window on his face, burning his nose and cheeks. Keith isn’t in his arms anymore, and part of him suspects he dreamt it all.

But then he hears breaths and gasps outside. He gets up and slowly walks through the barn’s door, outside. The sun is bright, too bright, blinding. Shiro rubs his eyes.

Keith moves with his sword, agile and quick, without a shirt. He sweats heavily in the morning sun, attacks an invisible demon only he sees. Shiro sits and watches him, until Keith notices Shiro sitting in the shadow and walks to him.

Shiro’s gaze moves towards his naked chest, betraying himself. Keith sees it, too. He picks up his shirt and throws it on.

“I don’t mind,” Shiro says. “You don’t have to wear a shirt.”

His guard grins. “Is that so?” he replies, feigning ignorance.

Shiro’s cheeks heat up. That wasn’t what he was implying. “Uh, I’m, _no_ , I-”

“Relax, my prince.” Keith says it with a smile.

Shiro dares to look at him, cheeks red. Keith moves to crouch down in front of him, one knee on the ground. “Shiro,” his tone is smooth, “did you sleep well?”

“I did,” he mutters even though it’s a lie, folding his arms in front of his chest. “Are you mocking me?”

“I wouldn’t dare, sire,” Keith says, his grin smug. He laughs out loud when Shiro gives him a sour look.

“I wish all my days could be this carefree,” Shiro tells Keith as he stands. His eyes follow Keith’s movement, run up and down his arms, his face and eyes. “I wish all my days could be with you.”

 

 *

 

The threat of Zarkondorf moves closer every day, he’s gaining power, but hope is not lost yet. Shiro presses for reactivating the machinery of their ancestors, ancient technology that nobody understands nowadays – wisdom that once was taught, but now has been lost forever.

He loves the heavy machinery that once was able to move and walk, loves their long shining arms and the patterns on their surface, made of ancient materials unknown to modern crafters.

The king is against it.

“Quit this nonsense!” he shouts, and Shiro draws back in fear, “You should be at the well, praying! These primitive ancient methods won’t help us!”

Keith protectively moves in front of Shiro, but Shiro shoves him back. “No,” he whispers. “He will get mad at you, and then I won’t have anyone.”

Keith sees the person he loves being punished and punished again. It gets harder to tuck his anger away, do as Shiro says and say nothing, when all the king does is mistreat him.

But one day Shiro gets his way, and the king allows him to mobilize and travel the lands to make alliances. Shiro’s progress on the ancient technology is steady. A servant found books about the legends of the Guardians and the four divine beasts, technological guardian angels from the past. Shiro recognizes them from the pictographs, so it must be true. They have to hurry and find their respective champions, but not only that, they have to talk to the tribes of Hyrule in order to find them and discuss with them the approaching threat.

It’s easy to make a pact with the Gerudo; the princess is strong and stoic but has her heart in the right place, and she’s intelligent. Acxa, princess of the Gerudo, has been studying the legends all along, and they learn more from her than she learns from them. She tells them about the Rito in the north, a village of bird people. They know about the Zoras, too, but so do the Hylians. The princess throws Keith a glance when they meet inside the palace – Men are forbidden to enter, but desperate times like these call for desperate measures. Her gaze is intense, and Shiro gets the feeling that there’s something more than being strangers between those two.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, and they have to keep going. They cross the desert again and are happy to see wide green fields and trees after days of vast emptiness. One day before they reach the village, they sleep at a horse stable – Shiro takes a luxury bed, while Keith demands to sleep in a normal one.

“Do you think we will find the respective champions?” Keith asks him as they sit at the fire place in the evening. The stars shine under the black sky. Shiro looks up and stays quiet. There’s someone playing a flute as a second person improvises and plucks a calming melody on a mandolin.

“I hope so, Keith.”

In all this time they’ve now known each other, Keith hasn’t seen Shiro as hopeless – the white hair is flowing gently in the wind, revealing the wrinkles on his forehead.

“It’ll be all well, my prince,” Keith tells him and stokes the fire. “I will roast us a few mushrooms.”

“Thanks, Keith”, Shiro says gently, but absent-mindedly, thinking of tomorrow already.

 

The champion of the Rito is an odd person – the moment he sees Keith, he starts an icky rivalry.

“Why do you have wings if you can’t fly?” he mocks Keith, ascending into the sky like one of the Hylian firecrackers on the evening of a spring fair. “Why do you have a spout if you can’t talk?”

He turns away from Keith, to Shiro. “Isn’t it a burden to have a guard like him?”

Shiro’s smile is tight but relaxes when he turns to Keith. “Quite the opposite.” He throws Keith an amused look. “It’s a delight.” Keith dares to smile back. Curse this damn bird, he thinks.

In the end, Lance, champion of the Rito Village, accepts Keith. They share a hug that gets a bit weird, and then they move on.

Goron City is a pleasure for a change. Keith loves that it’s never cold, that the air is burning like he’s used to. He likes to watch the village’s stone people walk by on their hefty legs and gnaw on stone that looks anything but appetizing. He doesn’t care for the jewels, but Shiro seems to enjoy them – he lets himself be showered with presents like the wasteful prince he is.

Shay, declared champion of Goron City, welcomes them with open arms and almost crushes their bones when she hugs them.

They reach the Zora’s habitat one month later, after a troublesome descent from Death Mountain. Keith knows the Zora prince, since he’s the one friend he made when he moved as a teenager. James isn’t the shy boy from back then anymore and has grown well. He has forged more plans to defeat Zarkondorf than Shiro has up to now and is ready to give his life in the fight. Shiro thanks him for his compassion and retreats for the evening to visit the goddess well.

While he is praying, Keith catches up with James. James talks most of the time, but Keith is happy to just listen and let his thoughts wander, over the glassy mountains and the deep valleys, over the waterfalls, the brooks, the stream and the basins.

“I have something for you.” James looks straight ahead, not a glance thrown sideways and continues, “It will come in handy for you one day. But it’s not done yet.” James looks shy, but Keith has never tried to understand what it means.

Keith wonders what it is, but only briefly. Earthly possessions aren’t something he necessarily needs. He wonders if Shiro is alright.

 

When he enters the goddess’ well during the night, he sees a head hanging between broad shoulders. Shiro is standing in the water, fingers woven into each other, clenched tightly, and he’s waiting, breathing. The Zoras have a special kind of water snail that will light up during the night – Keith thinks they are an abomination, but they _do_ look great from far away, shiny, messy, blobs in the water. The moon is out, and the night feels magical. Keith looks more than he should, but he can’t stop his eyes from wandering, just like he couldn’t stop them at noon, tasting and licking at every curve, every hill, every mountain beneath him, but now they are drinking in not the sight of the scenery in front of him, but the sight of Shiro alone.

“No luck today?” Keith asks him. It becomes increasingly harder to look into Shiro’s eyes and _not_ let his own wander. When Shiro prays, he looks like a god himself – white linen sticking to his wet body, muscles strong even though strained. Keith scolds himself internally for being unable to move his eyes away from Shiro’s cold hardened nipples.

“No luck,” Shiro breathes. His lips are blue.

“I’m sorry,” Keith says, for a lack of anything else to say. Shiro is beautiful, but he’s worn, too. He shivers in the water, unable to stay and concentrate as much as he’s unable to move.

“Don’t be,” Shiro says, but his eyes have already given up. It’s devastating.

“My prince…” Keith discards his sword and sets it aside, then takes his leather pouch off, too. The water accepts him like an old guest, a little nature spirit that guides him in. It’s not cold, if you haven’t been standing in it for hours.

“Shiro,” Keith draws the name out, tone getting higher at the end.

“You so seldomly call me that,” Shiro says and there’s a little smile on his lips, tired eyes crinkling in happiness.

“Shiro,” Keith says again, step by step, going through the water. “My prince, Shiro.” He rolls the ‘r’ over his tongue and splits it on his lips. “My prince.”

He’s boiling on the inside – and he warms it all up, the water, the prince. He’s burning for him, wishing to make the cold water that hurt his friend to fine mist or rain, anything but the cold water that freezes his delicate skin.

“Keith,” Shiro lowly calls out to him, and he doesn’t look cold anymore. He looks like he is caught in Keith’s fire.

 

*

 

Keith lies in the green grass under the blue sky and wishes he had a possibility to stop time. But it’s inconveniently approaching, coming closer, running away, ebbing.

The champions all do their part – they keep studying the divine beasts in an effort to learn how to defend, and if worst comes to worst, attack. Keith keeps studying Shiro when he’s not studying his blade. As the assigned guard there’s nothing else to do, and he’s already a master at his sword, but not so much at understanding the prince.

He just wishes, sometimes, that time would stop. That the sun would slow down in setting, and be quicker in rising, that sand wouldn’t run through between his fingers as quickly as it does –

It’s futile, he thinks. Everyone has their assigned role and destiny. He can’t keep Shiro occupied and Shiro can’t occupy himself with anything else but praying.

 

There’s the official ceremony, a few hundred meters in front of the castle. They declare the champions as the official allies of the king and prince. Keith has to wear the festive clothes and moves in front of Shiro next, bows down, pliant to his prince, holds his head in a deep bow, hair falling into his face.

The ceremony is over as quickly as it started, and Keith is officially Shiro’s knight.

“My knight,” Shiro says the whole night with daring eyes and a smooth tongue, and it makes Keith dizzy. Shiro says it like a promise, with his eyes and his tone and his voice he makes it sound like something entirely different. Keith thinks about Shiro saying “my love” in that voice, or “husband”, and it hurts him badly to think about it, but also feels so, so good.

 

Lance, the Rito champion, is Shiro’s admirer. Shay is their rock, literally, and holds them together. James, the Zora prince, is devoted and highly intelligent. They make a good team.

The champions come to the castle every month to plan and strategize – they have to work together and connect to be able to manage the divine beasts, and there’s no way they can do so without each other. Keith is happy whenever the champions come by, because Shiro will forget his troubles for a moment and see the light at the end of the tunnel. He will laugh heartily at Acxa’s snarky comments and feel supported by Lance’s flattery and admiration. Shay is as cool as a cucumber, the protector of the group, and Shiro feels secure in her rocky arms. James is always on top of things – Shiro can discuss things like philosophy and science with him on a level higher than everyone else.

Acxa, the Gerudo queen, gives all the support she can, and she’s feeling more protective than anyone else of him. The prince’s father, the king, thinks it’s good and sees the dynamic between them as something entirely different as it is, thinks that Acxa would make a good wife, when in reality she’s just a substitute for Shiro’s mother.

Keith knows, because Shiro told him – because Shiro is loud and bratty and demands his attention all the time. Shiro has been like that since they met a long time ago and he became his guard, but now he’s his knight. They’ve grown up, and some things changed while some stayed the same. Keith never pushes and asks him what he means when Shiro wants to be pushed and asked exactly like that.

“I won’t marry,” he explains to Keith as they sit by the fire. Keith had not asked the question to begin with.

“Alright,” is his only answer. The champions are far enough in the castle’s festive room, talking loudly enough to not catch wind of what Shiro is talking about.

“You won’t ask?” Shiro asks him, impatiently. He’s a beautiful, beautiful prince with red cheeks and caramel eyes. Keith wants to marry him, but he has kept this secret well hidden and vows to himself that he’ll take it with him into his grave.

“I won’t marry,” Shiro declares, “because I have no interest in women.”

Keith raises his head. He knows. Shiro has hinted it enough in the past already, but he never said it that clearly.

“You don’t?” comes Keith’s lame question.

“I don’t.” His voice is stubborn, as if he’s expecting Keith to say something against it.

“I’m glad,” Keith says. He doesn’t hide the devious little tone in his voice, when he adds, “my prince.”

 

The champions are loud and obnoxious, just like Shiro is. Keith likes them, too – he likes the quiet, but when they come to the castle, he doesn’t mind the havoc. He gets so used to being around people who accept him and his quietness, who like him, who will let him into their group, that he forgets what it feels like to be alone, and he doesn’t miss it.

It’s his break and it’s nice outside, but as soon as he’s well rested, he walks back to the castle and searches for Shiro.

 

*

 

 

They never expect the direction the storm is coming from.

Zarkondorf doesn’t attack first.

He plants the enemy from within, corrupts the guardians, and destroys all. The divine beasts, fine weapons meant for protection, turn against them. Keith fights their enemies, like he was always meant to – but destiny is only a fine thread, when things don’t come as expected.

Keith doesn’t want to die. He has not told Shiro that he loves him yet, but if the destiny of the knight is to protect his prince, then if he wants to save Shiro, it’s him who has to go.

 

The storm comes and goes and is trapped within the castle.

 

 *

 

 

It’s dark when he wakes – all is dark. He doesn’t have a name for himself, only sees his naked arm and legs, finds this…device that he can’t remember. There’s someone calling for him, a voice so close to him, but so far away. His body aches, but his heart aches more.

When he walks out of the cave, the little he remembers of everything is blurry against the reality he sees in front of him. Rich green fields, trees, ruins.

Ruins.

The ruins carry pictures of a forgotten world. When Keith looks around, he sees grass, but his mind fabricates people, masses and crowds of people, but when he takes another look around…

 _Nothing_.

There’s something he misses every night, something that calls for him from the castle. First, he finds some apples and nuts that he steals away from the squirrels and boars and feels bad about it. Then he finds small fireplaces that he can use. Thankfully there is an axe stuck in a tree, and although the rust is reddening it, it is still usable against the creatures of the night that lurk in places that are otherwise quiet and enjoyable.

Keith remembers that he enjoyed the quiet, always sought after quiet. But why does it hurt so much?

It’s worse to hear his own thoughts, all the time. He thinks whatever happened before he woke up must have been noisy, buzzing, loud and cheery. All he has left now is the dreading quiet and a void where his heart should be.

There’s one thing he remembers, and he remembers that it cried for him, saved him from certain death. He doesn’t remember, no, but he instinctively knows he must save him.

_Shiro._

It’s all he remembers. Shiro, and that he desperately wants to see him again.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

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